


trust in me when i say

by chaosy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff, I love them so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2132436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosy/pseuds/chaosy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Romantic," she whispers to him, like it's a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trust in me when i say

**Author's Note:**

> the texts from last night updates will be coming soon, i've just been crazy busy lately, sorry! :( i am so so so on board with derek/braeden, everything about them makes me want to curl up in a pile of blankets and cry happy tears. so here's some fluff!
> 
> say hi at martinisms.tumblr.com :)

He's in a better place now but the smell of burning still makes something freeze inside of him. His lungs go still and his heartbeat starts going lightning quick.

Braeden is looking hilariously put out by the charred mess in front of her. Derek comes up behind her, presses his hands gently against her shoulders. "What did you do to my stove?" he asks, conversationally, and she jabs at him with a fork.

"I was trying to make fish," she huffs, leans into his hands anyway.

Derek has a brief moment where he has to hide his smile in the back of her neck. Braeden is a mercenary, has killed people with her bare hands and could outsmart the best of them and has kicked his ass to the sun and back and she  _can't cook_. It's so cute.

"That's so cute," he tells her. She rolls her eyes at the teasing note in his tone and eases herself away to start scraping the blackened mess into the trash.

"Not cute," she says. "Now we don't have any dinner."

Derek refuses to acknowledge the thrill that comes with her speech.  _We, our,_  like they're a unit, like Braeden is a part of him. She is, in a way. They've been together long enough that he knows that he's in far too deep.

He strokes her neck as she passes him. "Takeout?" he suggests, and he knows she'll say no. Braeden is oddly enthusiastic about health food. Derek caught her sprinkling chia seeds on porridge the other day.

On cue, her nose wrinkles. "Ugh.  _You_ could always cook," she says, leaning back into his space with that smile of hers, that's half sweet and half sexy and that she knows Derek is powerless to.

"You can provide dessert," he tells her, kisses her briefly. She doesn't even scoff at the shitty line. Derek is in love.

He shrugs himself out of his jacket and starts washing vegetables. His enhanced hearing is completely gone but he can just about catch the soft rustlings as Braeden goes through his stuff. She's inquisitive, but she keeps that well hidden, prefers she couldn't care less about anyone. Derek knows she cares a hell of a lot.

As he puts the vegetables in the oven to roast, soft strains of music start coming from the main room.

"Sinatra, really?" Braeden calls. She's squatted by his stereo and the grin on her face is of a kid who's just found where their parents keep the candy.

Derek flushes, steps over to her. "The others bombarded me with a load of CDs, as if I don't have music taste of my own," he explains. "Sinatra was from Kira, I think. When she heard about you. I think she's trying to be funny."

Braeden laughs, takes his hands and pulls them in so they settle on her waist. "It's sweet. Derek Hale, getting his groove on to New York, New York."

Derek kisses her lightly and doesn't say that Laura used to love that song, sang it loudly as they drove into the city.

Braeden knows, though. She always knows and she always will because even though she doesn't have a speck of supernatural in her, she could read Derek like a book from day one.

"I like this song," she murmurs as  _I love you baby_  comes on. She puts one hand on his shoulder, the other linking with his. She squeezes his hand gently and her foot nudges his into movement.

They sway like that, Derek shuffling awkwardly and Braeden laughing at his steps. She stays close and he bumps their foreheads together occasionally.

When the big swell of music comes in he spins her out and back in again and she laughs. Her laugh sounds better than any fucking thing on his stereo.

"Romantic," she whispers to him, like it's a secret. Derek rests his head against hers and nods a little and they carry on moving, guiding each other around the room. Braeden twirls and he catches her, pulls her in for a kiss.

The lyrics are kind of apt, Derek thinks. Obviously, he's not going to tell Braeden that she  _warms his lonely night_  or anything, but he loves her. Shit, he really loves her, he's so gone over this smart, sharp, perfect girl. I love you, baby, he thinks. And he knows that it's not for the first time that his mind has tried to push the words out of his mouth.

He'll tell her. He will. And soon. He'll make it romantic, with flowers and maybe a nice dinner because for all Braeden's hard talk, she loves to be treated, and Derek loves treating her.

The song comes to a close and Braeden squeezes his hand, bumping their noses together.

"Derek," she murmurs, and that's when the smell from the kitchen hits him. "You're burning dinner."


End file.
